


Out of Sight, Out of Mind

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014, Episode: s05e04 The End, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shakespeare once wrote, "They say miracles are past." Castiel can't help but agree when he encounters the past-version of Dean in the year 2014. [Season 5, Episode 4 "The End" ] 2014! Castiel x Dean Winchester x 2014! Dean Winchester</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> __  
>  An early Christmas gift to my darling, Em.    
>  **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

_“What have I become, my sweetest friend?_  
Everyone I know goes away in the end   
And you could have it all, my empire of dirt.   
I will let you down, I will make you hurt...   
Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair   
Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear   
You are someone else.  I am still right here.” 

_Hurt (Nine Inch Nails Cover) by Johnny Cash_

The air is stale and something else... Rancid air. Rancid hopes. This entire time frame is just food that’s been left in the fridge for too long, and now you’re tormented with the idea of having to clean it out. You don’t want to open that lid, you don’t want to see what’s been festering and how hard, brittle, and unyielding it has become. Castiel scrunched his nose, because there was just bad vibes all about, and the fact he wasn’t nearly stoned enough to deal with two Deans probably going to go after each other soon made his fingers itch...

Listening to Dean -- one moment, we got to define who is who and what is what. Which one was _his_ Dean, and what a philosophical question that raised. Listening to the younger Dean, the one who didn’t have as much sense of humor as a dime, he eased a bit more into his seat. Legs remained on the table, but he kept his blue eyes focused on the younger male sprawled in the back. He was rising to his feet, legs apart and knees tilted outward, the angel unable to hide an oncoming smile. It was watching an old memory come to life, the way Dean always had a way of using his body language when he was feeling particularly snarky and unwilling to confirm.

The current Dean was cold, unreadable, and nothing but a tactical sergeant ready to engage in war.

Castiel bet that Dean was still soft around his stomach, and his thumbs could perfectly slide into the slot his pelvic bone provided. He fought back the urge to open his mouth, playfully tease Dean, but now was not the time and place.

“Oh so, we’re torturing again,” Dean stared in dismay and growing disdainful humor, “No, that’s good. Classy.” He winked at his older half who only stared him down from across the table, but Dean remained on his feet and firm. Castiel couldn’t keep his gaze off of him, because leave it to Dean to be the only one with enough guts to tell off....Dean.

He chuckled, grin wide on his face and eyes crinkling in happiness to see this...Dean. Castiel approved wholeheartedly, turning to the hardened Winchester in the group across the table to see a look of disapproval and dark questioning. If Cas knew anything about emotions, which he did a bit too well now, he already knew Dean was threatened. Felt threatened by his mirror image who questioned him, reminded others that there was a moral compass, that there was compassion, but worst of all wore his face. A reminder of what he was, and in Dean’s eyes his younger self was weak.

Castiel thought he was perfect...

“ _What_?” the blue-eyed angel was all smiles, unable to fight a giddy feeling that he has not felt in years. He was either stoned or miserable, and younger Dean gave him a high that pot couldn’t give him. “I like past you.” A declaration and Castiel watched Mr. Alpha Male exhale deeply through his nostrils, shoot the angel a hard look, glare in warning at Dean’s better half and go back to business. See? He would just give up, and seeing that before his eyes when there is his past self challenging him? The ex-angel was reminded bitterly that the only thing Dean cared about fighting for was simply to kill Lucifer. It wasn’t about saving Sam. Wasn’t really about saving the world, honestly, it was just cold-seeded revenge. The angel pushed it down and remained lackadaisical. Castiel rode through the rest of the meeting listening happily for Dean’s quips, because this was going to be their last rumble and past Dean’s words were the only thing that was keeping him okay with this. Castiel knew he was going to die. After this, he would be dead and he didn’t want to spend his last moments on this Earth getting a lecture from grumpy Dean.

He wanted to spend it with the person that inspired him to keep on fighting and made his heart race and stop all at once. It was a shame he didn’t understand Dean’s jokes back in the day, but that never stopped him from listening.

Dean understood that things like guilt, shame and trying to do things that are morally sound are no longer important in this world. Those were not tools of survival and doing what has to be done to stay alive, protect others, and simply save the world...again. It was a heavy weight on Dean’s shoulders that Castiel wanted to bear with him, but he was pushed aside and Dean was unreachable internally when Sam said that single, dreaded word. Once upon a time Dean would have gone back and help the one stumbling their way to safety. Once upon a time he would have jumped in the water to save someone from drowning. Now in this world, the right thing to do is kill that person and send them to their graves.

It was safer there.

Dean announced that at midnight they leave, and the fact that Dean insisted his younger self come made Castiel flare with brief rebellion. Dean didn’t want his younger self there to give him a hand, but instead to see what Sam became... To teach a lesson, and the fact Dean was willing to take his younger self that was still pure and humanly naive to see Lucifer wearing his brother... It was a cold reminder to the group he was the leader, and the excommunicated angel wished he still had his powers. He would gladly send Dean back to 2009 and away from what he would see, but his “wings” were gone.

“Wanna drink? Toast to our last time on Earth,” Castiel rose from his chair and left the room, but turned to the younger Dean, lithe frame maneuvering outside of the cabin they were in. “Listening to older you talk is like listening to a nuke siren.” Snorted in humor, pleased to see Dean keeping up with him, resisting the urge to keep on checking but he couldn’t help it. His limber gait would twist and coil as he would turn his head, grinning mischievously at Dean who would cock a brow in question.

“Keep on looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you’re gonna roofie me with this drink,” Dean informed dryly, but Castiel could only feel his grin grow wider.

The flourish of a bow before opening the door that Dean could only assume was Cas’ room.“Please, Dean, I’m a hopeless romantic. Poems and roses, if you will.”

Dean rolled his eyes and entered, not quite sure if this new Castiel was freaking him out or not, “Yeah, orgies are the new Hallmark card.”

Drugs and sex were his new and multiple poisons. They never once found him disappointing, and the high he gained? God, it was liking having one’s Grace back and feel the warmth of having a small sun residing in his ribcage. It was like floating -- like flying, and the pain of knowing that will never be himself again was devastating. It meant he was useless, and over the years he has become pathetically dependent on Dean. It was one hell of a role reversal but while Castiel loved every moment of protecting the Winchester despite the firm line of his lips and brows...Dean seemed to find it tiresome. He was deadweight and damn did Castiel try to prove that wrong. He learned how to shoot, learned how to scavenge, how to wrap up wounds, and anything else that would impress and prove himself to Dean.

To redeem himself.

Nothing seemed to do the trick and that’s when Castiel realized how heavenly drugs were when he broke his foot. Dean would make a few snide comments and jokes, but even that faded... Dean stopped caring, and Castiel quietly gave up hoping.

So he wanted to be sober. Be painfully sober for what would come, but that need to go far from reality was tempting. He didn’t want to be thinking of Lucifer, his lack of Grace, his lack of use, and the fact that this Dean wouldn’t be here forever. This Dean that was following him was just a temporary high, and he too will leave him, but the catch was...he wouldn’t be able to get him again. You can get Oxycodone if you look in the right places, but not the goofy grinning Dean with too much heart than he’d let on.

“This...is literally, dollar store wine... So if it tastes like piss, high chance it is piss,” Cas’ lips twisted into a bemused look as he offered the bottle to Dean to hold. Finding two plastic cups, he placed them on the small table in the room, taking the wine from Dean. Pouring them both a hefty amount, he handed Dean his cup before replacing the wine bottle with his own.

Dean gave a speculative sniff of the wine, “I’ve drank worst.”

“Ha ha....I really rather not know,” Castiel laughed, moving across the room with ease before finding what he wanted. Adderall. Just a couple and that’s it. That won’t hurt anyone. Than when it comes to actually leaving this camp for good, he’d take a downer. Nothing but a pill and cheap wine cocktail to help him, drawing a bitter smile on his lips. Popping the pills in his mouth, he swallowed them dry before holding his cup up. “Let’s give a toast,” Cas announced, ignoring the look of growing concern from Dean who wasn’t quite sure what the angel just took, “To...hoping that whatever comes out of this, I don’t shit my pants when I die. That’d be very anticlimactic.”

Dean looked somewhere between mortified and close to laughing, choosing to have a concoction of both. “What, you want to die pretty?” Dean laughed but the worry was too apparent on Dean’s face as Castiel drank his fill of the wine. God, it was awful. This really was piss. It was nice to see the Winchester fret over him... It made his chest ache but maybe that was the Adderall talking. “If you want to die pretty just use a goddamn angel blade.” The Winchester muttered against the rim of his cup before tipping it into his mouth, making a scrunched up face in disgust at the taste.

“I already tried that...”

The hunter stared at him, not quite registering the words, and than it hit him.“Jesus fucking Christ, Cas,” whooshed out in almost hysterics at the sheer realization that Castiel -- his Castiel would be driven to trying to kill himself. The sheer realization that once upon a time he plunged that stainless steel blade into his gut and waited in gnawing pain for a quick death but it would never come. It was tempting to scold him and lecture him, but that was too human and too desperate, and his hands were immediately cupping that unshaven face.

The plastic cup, haphazardly placed on the table wobbled and rolled off, but it went unnoticed. Castiel placed his quietly down, unwilling to break eye contact even though he desperately wanted to. There was a raw purity in this Dean and he was overwhelmed by it, because he just wanted to get high and fuck this Dean. Simple as that. There was no ulterior motive. However, this was becoming too real and a bit too personal, and maybe Castiel should just give up. He forgot. Forgot that current Dean didn’t find him appealing, so why would this one? That was an ugly thought, but it was the truth, and that was enough for him to gently move out of Dean’s warmth.

“Dean, it was a long time ago -- ”

“Fuck you, Cas,” was the instant interruption, feral growl suddenly melting from Dean’s tongue before a thick body shoved the angel against the wall. Castiel began to squirm, somewhere headily realizing that he was called ‘Cas,’ and couldn’t recall a time he ever was in the past three to four years.... It didn’t matter, and he knew a punch to the jaw was going to happen but instead lips crushed against his. Castiel stilled, hands resting on his chest as those pouty lips moved against his with a wild surge of emotions and quiet humility.

Dean was apologizing.

Cas choked on the sudden lump in his throat and dug his nails into Dean’s shirt, finally responding with his lips to the silent plea for forgiveness. Castiel forgave him, even though he has forgiven the Winchester long ago...

On impulse did he maneuver them to the bed, feet moving from memory of where things were in his room, soon feeling the bed hit the back of his calves. Sitting down, refusing to unlock their lips, Dean moved his hand behind Castiel’s lower neck. He kept Castiel’s head tilted upward, their kissing slow but purposeful, as if making each one count. The angel scooted a bit more on the bed, urging Dean to follow after him, and he did without any resistance.

There was something about this Dean that made his whole body flood with heat, feeling almost shy and back to the naive angel who couldn’t quite grasp these intimate moments. The older Dean wouldn’t bother with this, wouldn’t bother with these gentle kisses and gradually bringing it into something deeper and hungrier. You either get on with it or you get the hell out of his way. With past Dean, he felt as if he was being seduced like the girls Dean would hit on in bars or pretty much anywhere.

The older Winchester didn’t bother with that anymore. The girls in the camp were wary of the Dean. He was too rough to them. His fingers left bruises and his teeth tore skin. Mouth was foul and heart cold, but they were afraid to say no to him. Even Castiel was not willing to be so bold as to deny Dean, but it didn’t matter... Dean drifted off, either getting his kicks elsewhere and from where, the ex-angel had no idea. The less contact he could have with others in an intimate manner, the better, and it was painful to watch Dean become stoic and lack compassion. Dean became a part of the environment he was submerged in, and he made it aware to everyone he had no interest of getting himself out of it.

Hands were pushing his shirt up until it bunched underneath his armpits, Castiel taking the hint and pulling the thin fabric over his head. The younger doppelganger was kissing his chest that was too gaunt and thin for his taste, and the low growl in disapproval that he has been treated so poorly made Castiel’s toes curl. Open-mouthed kisses moved down to his stomach before a tongue slipped from those wet lips to run across his navel, making him breathe sharply in excitement.

“God, Cas....I won’t let this happen to you,” Dean was swearing into his skin, hearing the sound of his jeans being undone, and Castiel wanted to laugh at this. He really would like this to happen more often, but he understood what Dean meant. He meant this future. Castiel gave a hum, not sure what to say, because Dean was only following through with what will happen. Dean will push him more to being human, to a certain path and to a certain list of rules and it would be by pushing him would he become desperate... Stumble on this road of good intentions and find himself making a deal with a demon, an opening of another plane of existence and -- But it was heaven to hear Dean care and make this declaration that he would do his best to right this.

Dean slid his jeans off of him, pausing only to take shoes and socks off, before tugging the denim off of him. Pulling his own shirt off, the Winchester was trying to untangle and disrobe himself from his clothes, muttering a dark word about clothes being a ‘damn ass pain’ and a ‘terrible invention.’ Castiel could only smile in the dark before that familiar body of warmth was over him, and he looped his arms around his neck. “Let me?” he asked quietly in the darkness of the cabin and Dean grunted in consent, moving onto his back. Castiel still wanted to see if Dean was soft, and climbing over Dean’s larger flame and pressing his hand on his stomach confirmed it. Bowing his head, he nipped at the flesh and was intent on kissing every bit of skin on Dean’s body, his thumbs sliding with ease in the juncture of his pelvis bone. It was Dean’s turn to lightly shift and fidget in embarrassment at being worshipped by Castiel’s mouth.

 _This_ was _his_ Dean.

It made Cas heady, and it felt as if someone just informed him he could have his Grace back or that somehow out of all this ugliness, miracles were occurring. Castiel knew that he was hurting himself by letting himself fall head over heels again for Dean. Knew that his Dean would be gone from him in less than twenty-four hours, and the ache of knowing he is gone again would surely drive him mad if he doesn’t get killed before than. Sucking on the corner of his pelvic bone, he peeled Dean’s briefs off and felt his arousal pressing against his throat. Tilting his head, a tongue slipped out to lick off the precum, Dean instantly cursing and stiffening at the sharp flick of pleasure.

“S-Shit, Cas.”

Hand wrapped around the base of his length and began to give short strokes, mouth moving to take in Dean’s tip. Blue eyes flicked up, watching the dim image of the Winchester clutching the bed and chest rising and falling as if he was beginning to loose the coherency to breathe. The angel grinned and wrapped his tongue around the crown, tracing every groove and dip before sucking on it lewdly, groaning when Dean’s hips arched forward and pushed him deeper into his mouth. Moving his hand, positioning it on his thigh, he didn’t hesitate to hollow his cheeks and take Dean further in. Dean was cursing more, hands fisting into the sheets and hip doing this stutter where it was trying to resist from slamming up into Castiel’s throat. Castiel forgot that Dean and himself never truly did anything in the physical manner till after his “rise and fall of power” stint. Castiel nearly forgot what it was like to see Dean slowly come undone.

Lips moved across the hot skin until the Winchester was pressed against the back of his throat, making Dean’s vocals suddenly careen into a drawn out moan. A hot hand found the back of his head, fingers curling around the dark locks, and the way he was gripping onto him told Castiel that if he kept this up Dean was going to come soon.

Pulling back, listening to the hunter whine and protest, Castiel grinned and stood on the lumpy mattress. Sliding out of his boxers, he settled over Dean and pressed his mouth against his ear, “Fuck me, Dean.” A mischievous and shit-eating grin was on his face as he drew back, laying on the bed and parting his legs tauntingly and encouragingly for him. Dean swallowed thickly and stared, still trying to understand that this Castiel was definitely well-versed in sex and unabashed about being vulgar. Knowing his clean and pristine Cas was raising those thin hips and now slipping fingers into himself in preparation, made him shudder in wanton need. If he got out of here alive or whatever, he was going to keep this image forever seared in his memory.

Pulling a leg over his shoulder, Cas twisted suddenly and leaned over the bed to rummage for something in his jeans. Coming back, he pressed a small bottle into his hand, and Dean fought the urge to shake his head. Damn he changed so much. “What happened to carrying rosaries or holy shit in your pockets?” Dean joked to ease his own nerves, because there was something almost frightening about this. Not the whole part he was going to, in layman terms, fuck Cas...but the fact that this Cas was a vixen. Was all teeth and smiles, arched hips and bruised lips, and carrying lube in his pocket because you just never know. Hell, Dean knew he was a womanizer but even he wasn’t carrying that around. It was just a culture shock and he appreciated the Castiel he knew, swearing that if he ever saw him again, he was going to ask him to never change.

“Carrying the body of Christ was attracting too many birds,” Cas was quick to respond, the humor easing Dean enough to slick his throbbing arousal before nudging Cas’ fingers aside. Slipping his own he found him decently stretched, curling his fingers and earning eager hips rolling against the digits. Dean took the hint, moving Castiel’s legs once more before guiding his length against the wet and puckered entrance. Pressing further in until muscles gave in, a strangled sound in bliss left Dean when he felt Cas’ body just suck him in.

“Fuck,” he gasped, holding onto the angel’s thigh as he slid in further and felt muscles tighten and grip him. Giving him time to adjust and himself (mostly himself because Jesus fucking Christ), he began to thrust. Slow and steady thrusts, moving in and out, pulling out most of the way before rocking right back in. Gentle, steady, and firm, and Castiel relished in the slight burn Dean was creating but welcomed the warm and familiar feel. “Cas...” he breathed out shakily as he began to gradually pick up the pace. Dean leaned forward, engrossed in what he is doing, and Castiel leaned up to take advantage of the terribly focused and flushed Winchester. Pressing his lips against his in encouragement, Dean groaned and framed one side of his face with his free hand in response.

Dean failed to hear the click of the door opening, and Castiel was too busy riding the high the Adderall gave him, giving him the ability to focus on the exact feel of the brunette’s lips against his own.

The sound of the door slamming shut made the walls shake around them and both snap their attention away from each other. Dean became suddenly aware that the walls of these cabins must be thin, Castiel happily aware of that a long time ago. Stopped in his movements, frozen and buried deep inside of him, Castiel tauntingly rolled his hips. Just because someone walked in on them was not going to stop him, and Dean had to choke down a groan, fingernails digging into Castiel’s thigh threatening to break skin.

The light flicked on.

Wincing at the glare of the light dispersing the darkness, Dean didn’t have a chance in Hell to defend himself against the hand that grabbed him by the back of his neck. Back hit the wall hard and he grunted, aware of how wet he felt between his thighs and his lower back ached from the impact with the wall. In a twisted way it made him coil tighter with arousal and Dean chose to ignore that because his mirror image was suddenly before him and looking pretty damn pissed. “S-Shit, hey -- ow, fuck!” Dean began, hands up in defense, than realized his gonads were vulnerable and exposed. Protecting the goods, he felt a fist punch him hard shoulder, baring his teeth as if that would deter his scarier and older self.

Yeah right.

“We have four hours before we head off and this is how you’re spending your time?” Dean barked out, voice menacing and making the younger doppelganger wince, “I would assume, Castiel, you’d do your job and mobilize everyone. And you...” Eyes were back on him, ripping him apart with looks alone and Dean could only feel himself become annoyed. “Don’t think that for a goddamn second just because you’re wearing my face I’m gonna cut you any breaks.”

The younger Dean snapped his jaws and narrowed his eyes, “Woah, chill there Goliath. I don’t think this is going to take four hours. I don’t know how you’ve been doing it -- ”

“Shut your damn trap. You’re nothing but a hinderance in this group, do you understand?”

“Dude, this sounds like some internal transference shit you’re bringing up that you need to solve. Uh...I recommend beer, porn, and shooting shit,” the younger Winchester retorted back wisely, both twins not paying attention to Castiel who remained sprawled out on the bed as if he needs to take all that room up. The angel was not going to let this bump on the road deter him, and that sly smile was sliding onto his lips. Fingers loose around his once neglected member, he began to stroke himself as he watched both Deans get to each other’s throats.

The way past Dean was still whole and warm, untouched by waves upon waves of unfortunate events, in comparison to the hard-muscled future twin that was sturdy and unyielding...was a sight to behold. Castiel would tighten his grip whenever the current Dean Winchester would have his say, words a dangerous show of authority, fingers twisting at the tip. Precum had long ago dribbled in thick drops down, but the almost abusive pressure made him arch and suck in the air around him.

Than there was the younger version, and he was alive and passionate, urging his hand to speed up and push heat down further south. If he kept this up he was going to come from them fighting alone. He needed to control this situation, because he was not spending his last four hours like this, as amusing as it is.

Castiel cleared his throat and proceeded to cut in with a sarcastic air in his voice. “Oh no, don’t stop on my account. Watching you two get hot and bothered,” he let out a delicious moan to finish that train of thought, making the bare and naked Dean stare at him in rapture. The eldest Winchester pursed his lips and gingerly looked away, as if giving Castiel privacy, but Castiel was not in the mood and definitely not in the mood for his fun to stop.

“Dean...come here.” The youngest Dean moved without hesitation, bare body crawling back on the bed and giving a low sound in approval at the sight of Castiel. As far as Dean was concerned, his older self could go leave. Laying on his side beside Cas, he leaned forward to press his lips against his jaw line before finding his mouth. Groaning at the taste of his lips, a hand wandered across his abdomen and in the direction of Castiel’s hand that was still stroking himself lazily. Moving to replace it, a strong hand grabbed his wrist with a threat towards breaking it felt in those fingers, making green eyes flash to see what was wrong.

Green eyes stared back and shook his head, “Don’t get in my way.”

Dean stared at the hardened image of himself before nodding in turn, drawing his hand upward to the angel’s chest, “As long as you don’t get in mine.” A grunt in amusement was the answer and Castiel purred in delight at feeling a calloused and scarred hand work him, sliding over sensitive skin and teasing it with the rough layout. Smoothed surface of a worn flesh healing, followed by the taunting scrape of harsh skin near the edges, made him clutch onto the comforter for support. He missed this. Even though the Dean he currently knew had become a shell of his former self, he adored the attention he would give him. The occasional possessive look whenever he got too flirty with the girls and the groaned affirmation in the dark that Castiel belonged to him were fleeting but worthwhile. Now they were nonexistent, and Castiel lost hope long ago in pushing Dean...

Teeth found his neck and left playful little nips on his skin, the angel humming and recognizing that it came from the younger Winchester in the room. Turning his head, he tilted it back to expose more of his neck, feeling pouty lips move towards his Adam’s Apple. Gasping when teeth bit in, his lean frame arched and the hand working him tightened, making him whine instantaneously.

It was amazing how that moved both Winchesters to action, the angel finding him flipped onto his stomach and pulled onto his knees. The younger Winchester pulled him up to kiss him aggressively, sound of violence burning in Dean’s throat as he rubbed his length against Cas’. Castiel jerked his hips in response, but heavy hands kept him still and the presence of the older hunter behind him made him shudder.

“Bend over,” was the dark command, Castiel doing as he was told as he found his mouth near Dean’s stomach. Busying himself nipping and kissing the soft flesh, he playfully arched and shifted his hips for display, the eldest hunter snarling in approval from behind.

The older Winchester twin was a body of hard muscles and war wounds, and the steady hand now placed on his shoulder for support spoke of future unbridled actions. Feeling Dean’s length rub across the cleft of his backside, he twitched and shifted in need. Dean was crudely teasing him, and that familiar ache that felt more like an unbearable itch that needed to be tended to was gnawing inside of him. The Winchester continued on until the dip of his backside was gleaming lightly from precum being rubbed across Castiel’s still smooth flesh.

Free hand positioned his length until he was nudging against Castiel’s entrance, asking a demanding question in the form of a rippling growl. The angel tilted his hips and pushed back onto Dean as an answer, and the Winchester was sliding in, muscles already loose from Dean’s younger twin.

“I don’t think so, Cas.”

Castiel didn’t have a moment to comprehend until that hand on his shoulder moved to his neck and squeezed in warning. It sent instant pulses of fear, body clenching and Dean groaned in approval beginning to rock into the muscles that were now unbearably tight and forming a resisting tunnel. Castiel still had little reason to breathe but it was a habit, and it was a pain trying to teach your muscles to relax, instead of believing it was choking. Hot fingers touched his jaw, pulling him from his attempts to hold somewhat of a control of his body, dragging his eyes upward to see the younger twin. This one still had manners unlike the one behind him, grunting and cursing in animalistic pleasure as he kept a consistent gait.

The slicked tip of Dean’s length was before him, and despite his better judgement to first deal with his throat seizing up, he opened his mouth expectantly. Dean groaned at the sight, hand remaining on his jaw and rubbing circles across the flesh before moving on his knees closer to Castiel’s awaiting mouth. The angel didn’t hesitate to close his mouth around the wet flesh, sucking it eagerly and running his tongue across skin to taste himself on it. The hot suction when the angel closes his lips over his head makes him shaky and tilt his head back, bitting his bottom lip to prevent himself from making too loud of noise. Fingers twisted in Castiel’s hair, pulling and causing the angel’s throat to seize up around him.

The angel began to make obscene sounds around Dean’s arousal, urging Dean to push it a bit further and soon he didn’t need any persuasion. The Winchester was soon thrusting into Cas’ mouth, the slick and wet sound of his movements mimicking his other half who was slamming his hips into the angel.

Castiel’s eyes focused on him as he slid in wetly into his mouth. The way he continued to take him deeper and deeper, lips stretching around him, made Dean shudder and arch further into him. Dean tightened his grip on Castiel, aware of a slow, increasing pressure the angel was putting on his length as he seemed to twitch and writhe. Looking up, he found his older half had changed his angle and judging from the cocky pull of his lips, it seemed that the eldest hunter found Castiel’s tiny bundle of nerves. The angel swallowed Dean whole, groaning and begging until the pressure was too much and he came inside Castiel’s mouth.

The angel followed after, swallowing Dean’s load as he shook violently in a surge of pleasure, giving a choked sound as he slumped forward.

Dean breathed out in exertion, feeling Castiel brush his lips against the crown of his length, both spent. The angel gave a low whine, signaling that Dean’s older mirror image finally pulled himself out, hand affectionately patting the angel on the backside. Sitting on his haunches, the younger twin panted for air but a searing hot hand on his thigh made him look up. Green eyes stared him down and a thick length was pressing against his stomach demandingly, Dean sucking in the air around him.

“Christo,” he finally exhaled shakily, and whether that was some agreement or not, the youth found himself on his back on the bed. Dean was finding out quickly his older half did not like wasting time, heavy-handed hands moving his legs and strong frame settling between his thighs. Dean groaned, not entirely sure if he was okay with this because in a hysterical sense he was going to let himself...screw himself... Was that considered masturbation? “W-Wait,” the younger male finally grunted out, “Don’t even think about it.” It was a low warning and the older male blinked before giving a grunt in agreement. Moving about the bed, searching, he found the bottle of lube and let the cold liquid coat his fingers.

Dripping fingers ran across the pink flesh bunched together, causing the younger Winchester to squirm a bit before settling down, a single digit slowly sliding in. If anyone knew how to do something like this to him the right way for him, it would be himself. As far as Dean was aware of, he has yet to ever let Castiel top, and was honestly a bit skeptical about it. But the way that finger slipped in side and carefully work muscles never touched before made him groan in approval.

“Alright...don’t have to treat me too much like a virgin,” Dean managed to heave out to his older self who continued on teasing him, earning a short-lived chuckle.

“Don’t want to make you cry, princess.”

“Bite me.”

And he bit him. Leaned over and bit him on the neck, earning a sound in surprise and time for him to barely comprehend that three fingers were now inside of him stretching him with rude intent. The burn was interesting, not as sharp as he was expecting it but that may be because sharp incisors were going to damn well break skin. Teeth finally unlatched itself when those digits left him, making Dean feel open and the cool air nipping wet flesh was making him fidget.

The older Winchester shoved himself in than pushed upward, hips beginning to move in a fervor, still trying to hit that mind numbing whiteout of an orgasm. Dean groaned and found his body unable to adjust to the intrusion slamming into him, shaking his entire skeletal frame as all he could seem to do was hold on for the ride. His other half moved closer to him, body right above his and lips moving against Dean’s. Teeth were exposed and bit into the bottom lip, before dropping down to go back to the bite mark on that neck.

Dean moved his hand, wanting to hold onto his broader self but a scarred hand pushed it aside, pinning his hands above his head. “No,” came the heady groan directed at him, but authority interlaced the sound, beginning to take a dangerous pace. Dean decided against fighting against his older half, unable to even put up a good fight with the way he felt his insides become deliciously bruised. A sense of admiration and egotistical pride gripped him as he watched his mirror image slide into him, beginning to push back to loosen himself up a bit more.

Throat pale as he tilted his head back against the mattress, he gave a low sound in encouragement, and those teeth were back to sinking into his taut throat. A minute later he felt the older hunter come, hot liquid burning his insides as hot air puffed against his abused and bruised neck. Both struggled to catch their breath, green eyes staring down in curiosity before pulling away.

Dean remained on the bed, aware of Castiel moving towards him and kissing the bite marks on his neck.“Well that sure gave ‘go fuck yourself’ a whole new meaning,” he yawned and relaxed on the bed, feeling more than his share of his exhaustion and deciding drifting off for a bit would be nice. It’d be better than coming to terms that he let...himself screw himself and screwed Cas...from both... Dean rubbed at his head before easing against the mattress. The younger hunter muttered about it being uncomfortably wet before it faded into quiet sounds of breathing, the angel snorting in humor. Turning to the older Dean, seeing he was going to get up and leave, he huffed and reached out. Pulling him back down, the older Winchester grunted something about ‘five minutes only’ before laying on his back.

Dean was a warm heat, hard body pressed against his side and almost keeping him in a cocoon. The angel breathed out a sigh in relief, feeling as if something...had changed. Maybe Dean won’t be as callous anymore, maybe he’ll be more willing to give in and not focus so diligently on revenge of his. Maybe this would remind him of what he has been missing and still could have. It was a soothing thought that made him relax and bravely move closer to the human.

Castiel smiled in the darkness as he felt Dean lean over, quite content with using his fearless leader’s arm as a pillow. Tilting his head, waiting for that sweet feel of lips against his, instead the fluorescent teal light from Dean’s clock shinned. Dean only wanted to check the time, and Castiel couldn’t quite understand how that alone felt like a punch to the gut.

Dean was sliding his arm out from underneath him and on his feet, the sound of clothes moving and feet shuffling once more. “You got less than three hours before we have to leave. Don’t forget to do your job,” came the stern and gruff command.

Just like that, he was back to being out of sight, and out of mind.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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